Dragonball Z: Power of the Fates
by Daletiel
Summary: A young warrior makes a pact with a god, and is charged with the duty of protecting a certain familiar dimension. Chaos ensues.


DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dragonball Z, or any of the characters that appear in that series. I do, however, own the characters that I have created. This is the third time I've tried writing this fic, and hopefully this time around I'll be more successful.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: You may recognize the God of Neutrality, Teiuqus, as being very similar in nature to the character of Astinus, Chronicler of Krynn, of the Dragonlance novels, written by Margaret Weis and Tracey Hickman. I admit, Astinus did inspire Teiuqus, but any similarities beyond that are merely coincidental, nothing more. Also, while any canon characters may use some Japanese terms in their normal speech, Kensha and all other original characters will most likely speak English only, though I may still use a few common Japanese terms.

MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR: I'm posting this again to test the waters. If I get a good reaction from it, I'll update it regularly. If not, then I'll let it drift off for a little while before updating. The only reason I'm doing it like this is because I don't have the time to maintain a story that I get no feedback on, no matter how much I love the concept. That having been said, I hope you like it.

In a dark, shapeless abyss, somewhere in the endless void that makes up existence, a gathering of great magnitude was taking place, a gathering of higher powers. Powers with dominion over dimension, space, and time. Powers numbering three: one good, one evil, and one neutral; powers always in constant conflict with one another, yet maintaining the balance necessary to sustain life. It had been eons since one side had gained the upper hand, but in recent millennia the balance had begun to slip. The evil had begun to consume more and more, tipping the scales in its favour.

The gathering had been called in an attempt to bring about a cessation of hostilities. The balance had to be maintained. Each of the three gods were present in avatarial form, standing idly around a chessboard made out of black onyx resting on a white marble pillar, representing one of the many dimensions being fought over.

Standing to the left of the marble was Porosum, the God of Good, in his avatarial form, Tobias Andryon. He appeared a very regal figure, clad in highly tempered ceremonial armor, which consisted of breastplate, arm guards, shin guards and wrist guards. A long, flowing red cloak hung off his shoulders, giving him the appearance of a man not to be trifled with, while his eyes radiated a warmth that seemed very sincere, despite his appearance.

Standing to the right of the marble pillar was Paravus, the Goddess of Evil, in her avatarial form, Lauralon Cypriel. Clad in a sleek, form-fitting black dress, she seemed to emit a cold, pale beauty. Her jet-black hair ran down to the middle of her back, and her eyes seemed to be able to peer into the darkest recesses of a person's soul.

Sitting in between the other two was Teiuqus, the God of Neutrality, in his avatarial form, which went by the name of Nathan Tamaran. He was clad in simple grey robes, and had a large leather-bound book resting in his lap, as well as a pen clutched in his left hand.

Various chess pieces, representing the major players in the history of the dimension in question, were strewn on the board, in various positions. In a bright flash of light, which illuminated the void as far as the eye could see, two new pieces appeared on the board, in prominent positions. Porosum and Paravus exchanged glances, acknowledging that events leading to the final climactic battle for this world had been set into motion.

Teiuqus did nothing, except urge the well-worn quill held erect in his clenched fist to scribe the occurrence into the large tome resting on his lap, between folds in the fabric. As he wrote, he stated, a little melodramatically, "It has begun."

A lone figure wandered the dreamscape, seemingly content to be alone, save for the company of his own thoughts. The strange terrain shifted and convulsed, as it changed to acclimate to fit his perceptions. He came to this place often when he went to sleep. It was a place where he could find peace and solitude, away from the chaotic nature of his life. He moved slowly, steadily, sure of himself and his purpose for being.

A new figure entered his field of vision, and he stopped walking, eyeing the new figure curiously. The landscape changed considerably with the appearance of the newcomer. Rather than the dull grey colour normally associated with this realm, the ground immediately around the newcomer was a brilliantly pure hue of white. The terrain seemed to calm itself, steadying underfoot as the figure moved towards him. He crossed his arms across his chest, and addressed the newcomer.

"I have never seen you here before, stranger. State your intentions." The newcomer smiled warmly and raised his hands to indicate he had no weapons or hostile intent.

"Please forgive my intrusion, young one. I come to you in peace."

"I believe I shall decide that for myself. You have not yet replied to my inquiry."

"Ah, of course. All shall be explained in due course, Kensha." Kensha's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"How do you know who I am? Who are you?"

"I am someone who knows more about you than you know about yourself."

"Are you some kind of demon?" The man in front of him smirked.

"I've been called that, and worse. You may call me Tobias Andryon." Kensha's eyes widened, and his mouth opened, but no words came out. A smile played on Tobias' lips. "I get that a lot." Kensha quickly dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

"Forgive me, milord. I did not know it was you." Tobias moved forward and pulled Kensha to his feet.

"It's quite all right, young one. There's no need for formalities. I appear before you now to request your aid in a matter of grave importance."

"What sort of matter do you speak of, milord?"

"A matter that could cause the unravelling of the space-time continuum, and the end of life as you know it. Interested?" Kensha took a moment to ponder the information Tobias just imparted to him.

"Why me? Why choose me for such a task?" Tobias shrugged and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Out of all of the possible candidates, you showed the most promise, and I believe that enlisting your aid will ensure the highest probability of success." Kensha cracked his knuckles as he listened to Tobias speak.

"What is in it for me? What do I get out of it?" he asked. Tobias' eyebrows rose.

"Saving the universe and ensuring your survival isn't enough for you?"

"Those things are all well and good, but I would like to get something tangible as part of this deal."

"Very well. What is your request?"

"You are omnipotent, are you not? Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answers?" Kensha tapped two fingers to his right temple, and held Tobias' gaze. Tobias nodded in understanding and extended his hand.

"All right, young one. If you perform this task for me, I shall do as you request. Do we have an accord?" Kensha nodded and grasped Tobias' hand tightly.

"We do."

"Good. However, there is one thing you must understand before your mission begins. Upon your arrival you will retain no memory of your past, save your name."

"What sort of condition is that? How do you expect me to do this if I have no knowledge of my identity?"

"I do not choose to do this out of spite, Kensha. Knowledge of your past will interfere with your performance of this task. You must take my word for it, but you need not worry. Your memories will be returned to you as they are needed, and you will retain the knowledge of how to utilize your skills in battle." Kensha sighed, and glanced from side to side as he deliberated his options. After a moment of indecision, he realized that the reward outweighed the loss.

"I agree to your terms, milord." Tobias smiled warmly and extended his arm to Kensha.

"Then touch my arm, and you shall be taken to where you are needed." Kensha tentatively extended his hand, and touched Tobias' arm with the tips of his fingers...

Kensha sat up suddenly, the entirety of his upper body drenched with sweat. He jerked his head from side to side, surveying the unfamiliar surroundings. He was in what appeared to be a small, sparsely furnished bedroom. The only pieces of furniture were the bed in which he was sitting, and a small clothes dresser resting against the opposite wall, just to the right of a large window.

He wiped his brow, his hand slick with sweat. Throwing off the blankets, he swung his legs off the edge of the bed, and lowered himself to the floor. The floor was cold, much colder than the bed had been, and the sudden change in temperature sent a shiver coursing through his body. He shook it off and looked himself over, examining his body for injuries. Seeing none, and finding himself wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, he walked slowly over to the clothes dresser, hoping to find something that he could wear. The ball bearings inside the wooden assembly moved soundlessly as the drawer opened, revealing a pile of clothing. He removed the pile, closed the drawer, and sat down on the bed once more, laying out his new garments beside him. He quickly put on the clothes and examined himself in the mirror that hung on the wall directly behind the dresser. His new attire consisted of a full-length blue gi over top a loose fit, thin black fabric shirt running from his waist to his shoulders, extending on either side to the mid-point of his biceps. A jet black belt was wrapped around his waist, and black wristbands covered the appropriate areas. His gaze faltered as he saw his face.

His hand reached up slowly, examining his features through the use of his fingers. His face was completely foreign to him. _This face...I don't know this face. Who am I?_ It was a question he didn't know the answer to. He racked his mind feverishly, but all he could come up with was a name. "Kensha..." he said softly, in an almost inaudible tone. Glancing down, he saw a pair of black combat boots, which he slipped on, effectively rendering him fully clothed. He stood in front of the mirror, unsure of what to do next, when a strange sensation invaded his perceptions.

It was a sort of electric, tingling feeling that spread through every inch of his body. He jerked his head in all directions, before finally settling on the direction of the door. Somehow, he instinctively knew that a fighter of some strength had just arrived at his location. Ignoring the urge to question how he knew, he instead decided to follow his instincts. He dashed out the doorway, through the well-lit living area, and outside, into the bright sunlight.

The glaring sun blinded Kensha as he came out the door of the house, in search of the powerful fighter he instinctively knew was there. As he brought his forearm in front of his face, in an attempt to regain his currently diminished vision, he glanced around him in a wide arc, trying to bring what he saw into focus. When his sight returned, he swept his gaze across a trio of figures standing to his left just in front of him, before settling his gaze upon a man jumping off a fluffy yellow cloud, which, evidently, was his means of transportation, since, when his feet were firmly planted on the sandy earth that comprised the ground of the island, the cloud flew off into the sky, leaving a bright yellow wake behind it.

The man was holding a young boy dressed in a bright green and yellow tinged tunic in his arms. The boy also had on a red hat with a strange looking orange ball resting in its center. The ball brought about a strong response in Kensha, but he couldn't seem to place the object. It was like the rest of his memories: fragmented and disorienting. He shook his head, attempting to clear his mind of it, and returned his gaze to the man and the boy. The resemblance was so striking, he was almost certain that they were father and son.

The man carried himself with an air of warmth, friendliness and confidence. He was dressed in a gi similar in style to the one that Kensha himself was wearing, albeit with a different colour scheme. The upper portion of his gi was comprised of an orange, loose fitting shirt over a form-fitting, dark blue undershirt extending just past the rounds of his shoulders. A blue belt separated the shirt from the pants, which were also orange, with blue wristbands accenting the orange, and black combat boots with orange trim and blue ties completing the uniform. A black kanji framed in white was displayed prominently on his left breast, over his heart, signifying whom he had trained under. What really caught Kensha's attention, however, was the man's hair. Hair that seemed to defy gravity, extending out in all directions and sticking up in mid-air, remaining suspended. But, however wild his hair looked, a certain intelligence emanated from his eyes, intelligence that comes through experience, through a life fraught with conflict.

The man set the boy gently to the ground and proceed to converse with the figures in front of him. From the way they spoke, chatting light-heartedly, it was Kensha's assumption that they were old friends. As their attention was drawn to their conversation, the boy moved away from the adults, and began to wander the island, exploring the wonders that were all around him. He enjoyed himself, playing with a large sea turtle, and a small crab, which was resting upon the turtle's shell, before his small, booted feet carried him to Kensha, who had gone unnoticed by everyone present up until this point.

The boy tugged on Kensha's pant leg expectantly, trying to get his attention, which at this point was still fixed on the group conversation occurring just out of his auditory range. Kensha eventually responded to the boy's gentle pulling, crouching down so that their eyes met. His gaze was met with a shy smile.

"Hello, I'm Son Gohan. What's your name?" Kensha smiled slightly. This boy, who appeared to be close to 10 years his junior, was incredibly concise and articulate in his use of language, given his age. He was about to ask the boy about this and if the man who had brought him was his father, when he felt something brushing up against the back of his calf. He looked down, to find a bushy brown tail brushing against the fabric of his pants. What was more amazing to him, though, was that the tail was attached to Gohan's body! He reached down in curiosity, touching the tail lightly with his fingertips. As he felt the soft fur come in contact with the skin of his fingertips, he felt a strong sense of confusion wash over him. Feeling light headed, he reached out for Gohan with his other hand, hoping to grasp the boy's shoulder in order to steady himself as a wave of nausea and disorientation hit him like a tidal wave, merciless and unrelenting. His senses began to grow dimmer, as if the whole world had been turned down. His vision blurred until all he could see was a large multi-coloured blot in front of him; the feel of both the fabric of Gohan's tunic and the fur of his tail began to fade, replaced with numbness and a chill that seemed to expand to fill every inch of his being. Through his daze, he thought he could make out Gohan's eyes, looking at him with uncertainty pouring from his features…

Searing pain invaded his mind, like a jackhammer pounding on his temples, threatening to reduce his brain to the consistency of guacamole if given the opportunity. He let out a mind-numbing scream, as the sudden ferocity of it forced him to his knees, grasping his head in agony. Gohan began to panic, as his new friend began moaning and writhing on the ground in front of him, completely oblivious to everything save the pain. Gohan dashed back to the adults and began tugging furiously on the pant leg of the man who brought him.

"Otousan! Otousan!" The man glanced down at his son.

"What's the matter, Gohan?" The boy quickly stabbed his finger in the direction where Kensha lay. All eyes present turned to where Gohan pointed, to gaze upon Kensha's still-convulsing form. They rushed over to him and bent down in an attempt to lift him to his feet. Their contact, however, served only to cause him more pain, and his moans turned into screams of a bloodcurdling variety. Various jumbled images were passing before Kensha's eyes, faster than his mind could comprehend them. A man with long, flowing black hair in a set of brown and black battle armor; Gohan, sans his hat, standing in front of a crater, breathing hard; Gohan's father clutching the man in armor in a tight full nelson; a green-skinned man with one arm severed just above the elbow, holding index and middle fingers to his forehead. These images and more seemed to melt together, becoming an all-encompassing technicolour blur…and in an instant it was over. The pain receded, leaving Kensha dazed and confused as the others stood around him in a circle, looking down at him in apprehension. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, trying to steady himself on legs that felt as though they were made of rubber. He drew in a deep breath and looked at the assembled group, smiling weakly.

"Hello," he said. The blue-haired woman looked him over.

"Are you alright?" she asked. Kensha nodded.

"Yes, I am now, but I'm still a little disoriented. Where am I? How did I get here?" The old man answered his question.

"You're on my island, son. We found you washed up on the shore a few days ago, unconscious. We took you in, and cared for you as you recovered."

"Then who are all of you?"

"I'm called Kame-sennin, the Turtle Hermit. The bald-headed little warrior to my right wearing the orange gi is named Krillin, and the beautiful young woman to my left is Bulma Briefs." He gestured to the woman in question, and a dirty smirk pulled at the corners of his lips. Bulma crossed her arms across her chest.

"Those hands better not come near me, you old hentai, or you'll be looking at a thrashing." The bald warrior laughed heartily as his companions began to argue and, ignoring all of this, the tall man in the orange gi stepped forward and extended his hand, which Kensha accepted firmly.

"I'm Son Goku."

"Kensha is my name," he replied, feeling immediately at ease with the people around him. Unfortunately, this feeling was short-lived, as the same tingling sensation that shot through his body when Goku arrived filled his perceptions, but it was different somehow. Whereas when Goku arrived he felt a power of some measure, this power completely dwarfed it. Not only that, but it felt…repulsive.

A harsh wind began to blow as the power drew closer and closer; what at first was simply a tiny black speck against the mid-afternoon sky grew larger and larger, until it finally became the form of a man silhouetted against the bright blue canvas. The wind intensified as the man descended towards the island, his form increasing in size until his boots dug deeply into the sand, leaving firm impressions there. His gaze moved across those assembled, before settling on Goku, as his mouth widened into a smirk.

"Well, well, you've certainly grown up, haven't you? Still, I'd recognize you anywhere, Kakarrot. You look just like your father." The group let out a collective gasp at the sudden reference to Goku's parentage.

"What's he talking about, Goku?" Krillin asked quizzically. "Who is this guy?" Before Goku could answer him, the man interrupted.

"Your task was to exterminate the species of this planet, Kakarrot. What kind of game are you playing?" Krillin strode forward confidently until he stood directly in front of the stranger.

"Look pal, I don't know who you are, but drunks like you aren't welcome here. Now are you going to leave peaceably, or am I going to have to show you off myself?" The man's smirk widened, and there was a flash of movement behind him before he struck.

"No, Krillin!" Goku screamed, as his friend was sent hurdling over his head to crash into the side of the house, completely obliterating the word Kame from view, sending splinters and wood chips everywhere. Goku gritted his teeth, glaring vengefully at the man standing before him…a man who had a brown tail hovering around him. Kensha balled his hands into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms, as he prepared to rush the man…but stopped when he got a good look at him. This was the same man who had appeared in his visions, down to the very last detail. The same brown and black combat armor, the same flowing black hair, the same evil smirk. However, for the second time that day, it was a tail that caught his attention.

"A tail…" he said in a soft, almost inaudible tone. His gaze moved from the man to Gohan, and back to the man. It couldn't be just a coincidence that they would both have tails, and the fact that young Gohan resembled him made Kensha a little suspicious.

"So the truth has finally dawned upon you," the man said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"But who are you?"

"You mean you _still_ don't know? Impossible. It's inconceivable that you could forget about me, and your mission. What's happened to you, Kakarrot?"

"Nothing's 'happened' to me. I don't know who this guy you're talking about is, but I'm Son Goku!"

"You're insane! You must be brain-damaged, Kakarrot. Did you ever suffer a blow to the head?"

"My head? What does that—"

"Answer me! Did you ever hit your head?"

"I have a scar on my head, and maybe I did hit it, but if I did, I was too young to remember." The armor-clad man growled.

"Of course, that would explain it."

"Explain what? What the hell are you talking about?"

Kensha walked swiftly over to the Kame House, to where Krillin had been put through the woodwork. He kicked away the splintered pieces of wood and extended his hand to Krillin, still listening to the conversation taking place not three metres from him as Krillin accepted the proffered hand. Kensha pulled the fallen warrior to his feet, nodding as Krillin offered his thanks. As if knowing what Krillin was thinking, Kensha spoke.

"Don't even think about it, Krillin-san. That warrior is stronger than Goku," he said, gesturing in the unknown warrior's direction. Krillin's jaw dropped, and he began to stutter.

"Tha-that's not p-possible," he said, faltering. Kensha shook his head grimly.

"I'm afraid that's not true. How do you think he deflected you away so easily?" Krillin opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again, knowing he had no answer to offer. "Just stay close to Goku and don't make any moves until he does." Krillin swallowed with a bit of difficulty and nodded, following Kensha's lead to stand next to Goku. The conversation with the warrior had revealed a startling revelation, however.

_This warrior is a sibling of Goku-san. That would explain the similarities in appearance, as well as the tails. Yet, why do their auras feel so different to me?_

"Hmph, how very sad. Tell me something, Kakarrot…is that your whelp quivering in fear behind you?"

"N-no!"

"Oh, then I suppose all of these pathetic earthlings have tails?" Goku's right hand clenched into a fist, and he gritted his teeth in a vain attempt to suppress his rage. "Well, since my own brother won't help me, perhaps I'll take my young nephew instead."

"If you take one more step, I'll kill you where you stand!" The warrior, who had revealed his name as Radditz, smirked, and took a step forward.

"You just don't get it, shatei," he said, as he phased out of view. Goku, the shock registering clearly on his face, spun around in time to see Radditz re-materialize, planting a knee into his gut. "You have no say in the matter," Radditz said smugly, as Goku fell to the ground, clutching his stomach in pain. Radditz moved quickly, snatching Gohan from Bulma before anyone could react. "If you wish your son returned to you alive, you will follow my orders, Kakarrot. As proof of your allegiance, I will give you a simple task to perform, a _very_ simple task. One thousand dead earthlings, by this time tomorrow. Pile the bodies on the beach, and don't think that I won't count. I do hope you'll do this, Kakarrot; after all, this is my only nephew. I'd hate to have to kill him." With a maniacal cackle, Radditz, with a whimpering Gohan in tow, rose into the air. "Make the right decision, for your sake and for his." With that statement, he took off in the direction from whence he came, leaving the others standing speechless on the beach.

shatei – Japanese; term for 'younger brother'  
otousan – Japanese; term for 'father'


End file.
